Blast's Story
by melvynlennard
Summary: The world is in chaos. The death of a hero has cause global pandemic, and an evil mastermind has taken advantage of all this. It all comes down to the prodigal son, and the gathering of past heroes in order to stop the empire that has ruled with an iron fist. RATED M FOR LEMON, VIOLENCE AND USE OF LANGUAGE.
1. Prologue

Thunder echoed across the sky. It was raining, hard. The grass swayed under the intense wind, which howled along the air.

Along the edge of the field there was an abandoned stable, old and unwanted. The once strong iron structure has rusted, and the whole building was falling to pieces.

A crack.

Lightning struck the roof, sending wooden supporting and metal tumbling down to the hay covered floors with a loud thunk. Feet quickly shuffled to find a new position, away from the crash, trembling with fear and uncertainty.

The young hedgehog whimpered, clutching his legs against his chest beside the wall. His crimson and yellow fur stood on end in the cold, and his white and blue shoes were strewn with mud. His gloves lay beside him, soaked from the rain. His teeth chattered and his mind raced. He tried closing his eyes, trying to sleep, but it was useless trying. His blue eyes instead traced on the hay floor, trying to distinguish a pattern in the assorted strands.

Crows cackled outside, and heavily flapped their wings as they noisily left their home tree, flying to find safety.

The boy wanted to go, he wanted things to be okay, just as they were. But they weren't, and that was not going to happen.

Outside, the grass gave an almost silence _shh_ sound. It was getting louder. Someone was walking this way.

The boy tightened his hold against his legs, almost squeezing all the air out of his lungs, and turned his body towards the back brick wall. He knew who it was. And he didn't want to face him.

The noise changed to one small _cht_. He was now standing in the stable, silent as ever. After five minutes of dead silence, the voice spoke.

"Blast."

The boy turned his head more towards the corner.

"C'mon Blast," said the voice, as the footsteps went toward the boy and stopped behind him.

The boy turned his head to face the corner. He wasn't prepared to move at all.

The man kneeled down behind him. He exhaled a sigh. "This is it, huh? First sign of trouble and you run off to hide in a stable."

When the boy said nothing, the man got up and walked around the stable, continuing "An old. Decrepit. Lifeless stable."

The man stood once again behind the boy. He breathed out through his nose heavily, "Look, Blast. I won't pretend to know what you're feeling right now. Things are tough between me and your mother, and it can seem like too much for someone your age. I want you to know that she is worried about you, and that she wants you to come home."

The boy finally responded, "She's only worried because I ran."

"Yeah, well. I guess you got that from me."

The boy winced at that one.

The man stared at his back for a while before saying "I remember when you were younger. So full of life. You had your father's spirit, courage and determination. You had your mother's undying hope and joy. If someone had told me that they were afraid of anything, I would not have believed them. I guess I would've been wrong."

"Yeah." muttered the boy.

"Look, you don't have to trust me, much less believe me, but I do what you to know what thing." said the man. "And that's that I care about you."

No answer.

"I care about you more than anything, ever. More than your mother, more than my friends, more than my own family. Why? Because you are my blood. I have felt no closer, no more familiar, with anyone I've met before. And maybe that's too much, to some. But not to me. And when you grew up, I hoped you would understand that."

Tears rolled down his face.

"Or at least appreciate it." He finished.

All of this was said calmly, and clearly. The man wanted the boy to know what he truly felt, with no emotions clouding it. No emotions, but love.

The man turned, walked out of the stable, and ran into the storm.

The boy looked over his shoulder, just to see the blue trail slip away. He fumbled to get up, tripping over his legs in anticipation.

And he ran.

He was never as fast as the man, no matter how hard he had tried previously, he could never reach that level. But now it was different.

Determination, anger, sadness, envy, love and desperation all combined and gave the boy a new purpose, a new hope.

He ran with all his might, arms swinging back and forth, mind racing all the same.

In the end, he let go.

The world slowed around him, every rain drop twinkling in place, suspended in time by the invisible hands of a cosmic puppeteer.

The boy's bright blue eyes sparkled from the swelling of tears, as each step pounded the floor.

And he saw the blue trail again.

Time slowed more every second, but the boy's body moved just as fast.

Closer and closer the blue spot came, just a few metre's from the boy's outstretched nose on the end of his rounded face.

He was in the trail, it created a tunnel that lead directly to the target.

The fastest living thing in the world, running at top speed.

It was getting closer, but not slowing down.

The boy stepped aside, outside of the tunnel and clenched his fists and pushed one, final time.

Blast jumped past his father.

He collapsed on the ground, panting wildly for breath.

The world returned to normal speed, and the trail died down in front of him. The pilot turned back and jogged to him.

No words were exchanged, but Sonic gave his son a hand up. Blast fell into an embrace tightly clenching his father.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." he spluttered as tears flooded down his face.

Sonic stood there, eyes closed. He did not return the hug, his arms were by his side. He wasn't ignoring Blast, he was doing something better.

He was understanding Blast, giving him time to pull himself together.

Blast quickly let go and looked up at his father.

Sonic opened his eyes, looked down at Blast and smiled his trademark smile.

"Well look at that, you managed to beat me." he chuckled.

The realisation hit Blast like a did it. He beat his father. He jumped around, shouting at the top of his lungs, celebrating like he never celebrated before.

Sonic just stood there and smiled silently.

When Blast had finished, he looked at his father eyes wild with happiness, tearing pouring down his face.

Sonic looked at him again, lifted his arm across his body, gave the thumbs up and grinned.

Classic Sonic pose.

And then, a metal claw ripped a hole through Sonic's heart from behind.

Sonic coughed once, releasing a cup of blood into the air, and fell to the floor.

Dead.

Metal Sonic stood over his defeated adversary. His job done. His eyes green with satisfaction.

He locked his target onto Blast, his eyes turning blood red.

Metal Sonic did not care for Blast's emotions, his trembling body nor his devastated look.

But he just stood there, taking no action.

Blast just ran. Into the night, no where close to running as fast as before.

He stumbled, he tripped, he fell, he fled.

He left his life behind him.


	2. Five Years Later

A solid, grey, cement box stood in the middle of a great desert. Featureless and plain, foreboding in its nature. It was immovable, unchallengeable, and completely fortified. Robots of all shapes and sizes guarded and patrolled, delivered and sent. No expenses were spared, the whole place was covered by robots wielding weapons.

Five years had passed since Sonic's death. Evil forces has since taken over all that was precious and peaceful, certifying an empire of pure dominance, so that none may dare to fight back.

Blast had not been found since the day Sonic died, and it was believed that he was with Sonic at the time. Many believed he would've fought back, but he did not. Many believed he would return soon and stop the invasion in its tracks, but he did not. Rumours began to spread that he killed Sonic in the first place, but that was only a handful of people looking for an excuse.

And now, in this cement building, there were thousands of jail cells, all holding every kind of living captive imaginable. People, animals, and unruly subjects. Rebels, plotters and those who even put a harmless threat toward the dictator was thrown in. A lot of them were kind-natured individuals.

Or at least they were before.

Hardly any food rations were to spare, with fifteen people occupying a cell each, there was only about a dog-bowl-full of food. People were transformed into maniacs, only concerned of themselves, of survival. Riots would begin and end in a cell, usually with one or two people dying in the process. The robotic guards did nothing.

No one has ever been out of their cells since they've first arrived, and hundreds more were arriving everyday. Towns and cities were given a chance to defect to the new empire before being bombed to destruction. Not one withheld, and all the civilians suffered along with them. Only small villages remain, almost forced to surrender under the suppressive might of the empire.

Many animals have since been extinct, including flickies and all-but-one of the chao.

That one sat in the most heavily guarded cell of the entire complex. Bars as thick as an oak tree, no windows, and six alternate layers of cement and marble. There was no way of getting out nor getting in.

Perfect.

In the corner of this cell sat a pink hedgehog, curled up and secluded, denying all comfort offered. She was the wife of the hero, and the mother of the lost child.

Not one person had blamed her for what had happened, Amy blamed herself.

The same day it happened, she had a heated argument with Sonic, concerning Blast, which had caused him to run in the first place.

Since that day had passed, Amy had kept to herself, utterly depressed at the mere thought of Sonic or Blast, and the event.

She refused to eat, she did not respond to any communication efforts, and she made no noise but the muffled blubbering onto her knee.

Also in the cell were Tails, Sonic's best friend and partner in crime. He had a kindly, uncle-like relationship to Blast, and they each enjoyed one another's company.

Knuckles, on the other hand, became even more secluded, choosing to remain on Angel Island permanently after Amy had given birth. Up until he got caught and the Master Emerald was stolen by an incomprehensible fleet.

Lastly, there was Cream and the very last Chao: Cheese. When the fleets arrived at their house, Vanilla tried to protect Cream to the very last second. Vanilla had been killed in front of Cream's eyes, and Cream was captured.

Somehow, in the midst of it all, Blast had completely escaped. Removed off the map and officially declared dead. Though no body was found, nor was he actually reported as killed.

A slight whisper was heard, very quiet in the background. It became louder, it was getting closer.

The robot arrived at the cell, and emptied a handful of gruel on the floor through the bars. No one touched it, no one gave it more than a glance.

"Five years and not a single improvement in the food." joked Knuckles, sternly.

"What do you expect? He never liked us. It's the opposite, actually. He wants us to die. He wants us to suffer, and he wants to watch." said Tails, grimly, not keeping eye contact with Knuckles.

Cream whimpered a little in the corner. Tails then knew he said a little too much, but he really did not care a whole lot. The past few years have changed him, and the optimistic attitude has steadily but surely deteriorated into a sure-fire pessimist.

"Then why doesn't just take our food away from us? Jab us with pointy javelins or impale our limbs?" barked Knuckles, hands on his hips.

Tails finally looked Knuckle in the eye, "Giving him ideas won't help Knuckles. And besides, he's probably trying to invoke mind games, trying to see which one goes crazy first, see who kills each other."

"He's not that smart."

"He has an IQ of 300 and he took over the world, I think he'd hatch something like that."

"Well it wasn't all him taking over the world, was it? He's an opportunist, and he had the right opportunity." said Knuckles with a smirk.

"Knuckles, don't." pleaded Tails, realising what Knuckles was doing.

Knuckles half-turned to Amy, still smiling, "Isn't that right, Amy?"

Amy ignored him.

"Knuckles please." begged Tails.

"Your precious little boy is the one to blame for all this, isn't he, huh?"

Amy remained adamant.

"Running away because he couldn't handle a little tension between you and his father, and then what did he do?" Knuckles' face dropped into a fierce frown. "What did he do!?" he yelled, nay, demanded.

Amy couldn't listen, she didn't want to, but she showed no signs of weakness or submission to Knuckles. Tears quietly fell from her eyes.

"He ran! He went and ran away!" Knuckles bellowed, waltzing around the cell. "And I'll bet, if he didn't we wouldn't be stuck here rotting."

No answer from anyone. Tails couldn't lie and say he'd never thought that. Of course he had. Five years is a long time to think.

Knuckles returned to where he stood before, this time fully facing Amy. "Your little coward, son of a bitch."

THAT was too much.

Amy got up and went right into Knuckles' face, her face as red as molten lava, tears streaming down.

"Stop it! Stop it! You don't understand! While you've been hiding away from those who care about you, we've been having our own lives. You don't know Blast, you don't know him at all! So your in no fucking position to make assumptions about my boy.

"It was my fault, okay!? It was my fault I had an argument with Sonic! It was my fault Blast ran in the first place! My fault that Sonic got killed! What more do you want!"

Amy stood her ground, breathing heavily after the onslaught she just delivered to Knuckles.

"You're clearly blind, woman! I'd say him running away in the face of danger is enough to confirm that he's a spoilt little bastard-"

Amy slapped him in the face, hard. The force sent Knuckles reeling.

"He ran because people like you expect him to save everyone, to be what Sonic was and more. You don't know, you don't understand, and don't pretend that you do!"

Amy stormed off back to her spot. She couldn't help herself, she started blubbering even on the way over.

Knuckles gave Tails, who stood up after the slap, the look as if to say 'women, aye?' Tails just frowned, and so they both sat back down.

Cream didn't do anything, but she caressed Cheese, watching him sleep. He was her gateway, her way of blissfully ignoring her surroundings. It was harder and harder to do, and even now she found herself quietly crying.

This was not the first time this argument had ensued. Cream grabbed her chalk, drew a small line on the wall, did a quick count, and returned to Cheese.

It counted to 231 tallies.


	3. Elsewhere

A quick step, but not quite quick enough.

The sharp incline was foreboding, but a quick scrabble climbing up it could prove effective on hiding from the sentries. The feet sped at the surface, and the rocks which served as meagre footing tumbled down, almost bringing the clinging body with it.

Muddy caves were difficult to navigate, but they're essential if he wants to hide from the enemy.

He hung from an old weedy branch, trying to navigate where to go from here. To the left was a section of hill a little less steep but it was not enough to keep a foothold on. The other side had more loose rocks, but he did not want to risk those again.

Even in the five years he had to practice, Blast still could not get his climbing right.

Since his father's death, Blast lived off the fat of the land. He had to somewhat learn the hard way, locating food and recourses for himself.

Fighting the empire would be suicide, so he just hid away in stowaway caves and tunnels, foraging what he could.

He couldn't stay in the same place for long, since the sentries leniently searching the complexes would find him.

Blast has, at least, become very good at realising when a sentry was approaching, and as such, he began sleeping lightly, waiting for that distinct _whur_ that the robots hummed as they searched the natural hallways.

The sheer size of these formations astounded Blast, as they stretched countries. One day he had fled from the Mystic Ruins and another he popped his head out at the decrepit remains of Empire City.

_Whur_.

Blast's mind snapped back to the matter at hand. He wasn't too far from the bottom of the cave, but he had heard the sentry, so it was one way or another.

In the end, he decided he didn't want to risk slipping and falling on the left side, so he quickly made a jump to the right.

This decision was also aided by the fact that the sentry was coming from the left.

And it's getting closer.

Blast's right foot made contact with the first pile of rocks. They collapsed under his weight, but he had already jumped as they tumbled down the mountain.

Ahead, he saw a slight outcropping which would be good for a breather, but it was beyond more pebbles.

This time, Blast was leading with his left foot, making the following jump rather awkward.

He landed with both sets of toes on the collection of rocks and quickly shifted his momentum to throw his body onto the platform.

The _whur_ came and passed, and Blast was safe from that kind of pressure for another hour or so.

He caught his breath, resting his back against a wall adjacent to the slope.

Here he had his own little roof, which he soon became thankful for.

Behind and above him he heard another _whur_.

Pure luck that he had made it to that platform then.

It, too passed.

This time while climbing up, there were plentiful branches he used to push himself up to finally reach the top.

To his right he noticed something. A path which seemed to twist down the right, toward where he was previously.

Looking back over the ledge and around the corner he noticed a path going up and to the left.

The climb was completely pointless, and the sentry was the exact same.

Not that that mattered, it had already passed, and if he followed it then there certainly wouldn't be one for a while.

And he was never returning to that place again.


End file.
